


In a Language of Our Own

by stardropdream



Series: Another Word for Forever [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Language Barrier, M/M, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Purring Keith (Voltron), Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: For his birthday on Earth, Keith pampered Shiro. Now that it's their last day on Earth before they leave for Daibazaal, Shiro decides it's time to pamper Keith and thank him for all he's done.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Another Word for Forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628308
Comments: 110
Kudos: 347





	In a Language of Our Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeeonthebrunhild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeonthebrunhild/gifts).



> Fic request from [Amanda](https://twitter.com/SundaySEternal), who asked for a continuation of Another Word for Forever! This time, the boys are wrapping up their time on Earth. This fic is just an excuse for some non-sexual intimacy. We love to see it. 
> 
> (I swear that they will actually get to Daibazaal eventually asdlghasd; that's just a bigger boi than a simple one-shot.) 
> 
> I'm told that this reads nicely even without having read the first or second fic, but naturally there's lots of background to be had in the original fics! You might be better off reading those first. But then, this is mostly a fluffy one-shot, so if you're here for the h/c then hello enjoy your stay. 
> 
> As with the previous fics, there is a language barrier here; I try to clarify in the narrative which languages are being spoken and at what time, but for a general shorthand, any fully italicized dialogue is in Galran, and non-italicized dialogue is in Terran. Also, when characters use the "universal translator", that's referring to the Star Trek concept of a device implanted in the ear that automatically translates languages both heard and spoken for its wearers. 
> 
> Finally, as a reminder, in this universe, the Galra communicate with three languages: verbal language, the subharmonic language, and body language. 
> 
> Thank you to [Meg](https://twitter.com/kedawen) for the helpful suggestions and notes!

Shiro holds his breath as he waits for Keith’s reaction, excitement nearly spilling over. 

The Terran cat, a fluffy and fat Persian, stretches her paws out in front of her, arching her back. She yawns, flashing sharp fangs. 

Keith’s face stays perfectly unreadable as he studies the creature. His expression is almost too purposefully neutral. His ears twitch forward and flick back again, almost mimicking the cat outright. He’s still for so long that Shiro starts to worry that he really has just insulted his husband— he’s gotten more confident in reading Keith’s expressions, but he can’t help but doubt.

But then Keith turns to look at Shiro, expression going from flatly neutral to something more bemused, ears flicking forward. “… This is the creature you compare me to?” 

“Yes?” Shiro says and it comes out more as a question than statement. He flashes a shy grin. “Don’t you see it?” 

Keith scoffs, eyeing the Persian. It’s a look of pure disbelief and distrust. It makes Shiro want to laugh but he swallows it back, reaching his hand out to pet the cat, stroking her from the back of the head down to the base of the tail. The Persian chirps a pleased mewl and Keith grumbles low in his throat, watching. 

Keith’s doing something funny with his eyebrows, like he’s torn between alarm and offense. It doesn’t seem like true offense, of course, but more a perplexed curiosity. That’s what keeps Shiro from fretting too much. 

Keith tends to think Shiro ridiculous, so he’s banking on this falling in that category. Keith might still be feeling charitable in the wake of Shiro’s birthday, still wanting to pamper Shiro. That might extend to indulging his husband’s silly whims, too. 

“What if I told you I want a pet cat instead?” Shiro asks. 

Keith’s ears swivel forward and he grumbles again, deep in his throat. The Persian cat’s tail puffs up and she skirts away. Keith stares after her. It’s not a grumble, Shiro realizes, but a growl. 

“Sweetheart,” Shiro says and takes Keith’s hand. “ _Come on. Let’s find my fish._ ” 

That’s what they’re here for, after all. Today is their last day on Earth before they resume their journey to Daibazaal. That means one last day to finish up last-minute errands and tie up loose-ends. Shiro has his paperwork all sorted out— he is officially emigrating from Earth to his husband’s planet. To _his_ home planet, now. 

Shiro’s never been so excited to go somewhere new. He’s always loved exploring, loved traveling the universe. This will be a new adventure all together. 

They’re going home to Daibazaal. 

It's a strange thought. He knows that Keith worries about Shiro and how he’ll adjust to being on a new planet, but Shiro can only feel excitement. He’s always been an explorer, after all. 

For now though, their mission is a far simpler one— find Shiro a pet fish and buy some seedlings for their new home. Shiro spent all last night researching what plants would work best in Daibazaal’s climate and how to properly transport them to his new planet. He wants to be mindful of how to approach this, because the last thing he wants to do is introduce a literally alien plant to the planet and consequently launch a cataclysmic global reaction of invasive species and devastate the landscape. 

Keith seems less optimistic about their ability to grow a garden. When Shiro posed the potential destruction of native vegetation, he’d simply snorted. _My husband worries so much,_ he’d said and kissed Shiro’s forehead. Shiro’s stubborn, though. He’s willing to build as many greenhouses as it takes, or nurture houseplants for the rest of his days, if it means he’ll get the garden Keith promised him. 

And despite Keith’s caution, Shiro knows he’d do whatever he could to do that. He promised Shiro flowers every day. And he knows his husband will be one to keep that promise. 

Their garden is more symbolic than anything else— what it will represent for him and Keith. Even if nothing ever grows, that won’t matter. It’s the act of creation, the purposeful cultivation of their home together. 

He’ll need to get in contact with Allura about importing sealgrass seeds. That, at least, he’s determined to have— a patch of sealgrass for him and Keith. 

Shiro studies the fish in their tanks and feels Keith’s presence trailing behind him. When Shiro glances over towards him, Keith’s eyes dart back and forth with the fish, watching them swimming. It’s much like the way he watched the fish at the aquarium— with undisguised wonder and interest. Shiro’s still not entirely sure Keith isn’t just thinking about eating them all, but that might be his own Terran cat-bias making him interpret his husband’s mannerisms. And he's doing his best to shake himself from those assumptions, his teasing of Keith aside. 

“ _I am not like a cat,_ ” Keith says in Galran, as if sensing Shiro’s thoughts. He flicks his eyes towards him. He looks like he’s pouting, which is more adorable than fearsome. 

“ _Of course not,_ ” Shiro agrees, his answering Galran not nearly as smooth or fluid as Keith’s. He smiles, squeezing Keith’s hand in his. “So, I guess you won’t want me to start calling you my pretty kitty?”

It takes Keith a moment to parse the words, his eyes narrowing as he translates. He wrinkles his nose. “Shiro.” 

There’s no warning in his tone, only exasperation, but Shiro laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing.” 

Keith huffs out and looks away, his cheeks deepening into the familiarly cute, plummy-red color as he blushes. It’s clear that Keith has something more to say and Shiro knows to wait, to be patient, as Keith collects his words.

He isn’t disappointed. After a long pause where Keith just slowly blinks at him, he finally says: “… You may call me ‘pretty’, if you must. I like that.” 

Shiro tries to muffle his smile and leans in, brushing a kiss across Keith’s flickering ear, close enough to his hair that he knows it’ll make Keith shiver. Shiro loves the way Keith feels beneath his lips, the soft velvet of his fur. 

“Pretty Keith,” Shiro murmurs. He pulls back, feeling the heavy, pleasant weight of Keith’s eyes on him, and nods towards one of the tanks. “What about this one?” 

Keith regards the fish with thinly-veiled judgement. Obviously, it doesn’t meet his husband’s approval. It makes Shiro laugh— he doesn’t mind browsing. He doubts Keith will end up with a strong opinion on whichever fish he chooses, but half the fun is wandering the store with him. Shiro’s not sure he’s ever going to get tired of watching Keith interact with Earth. 

Maybe it’s not the most exciting last day on Earth, but Shiro’s spending it with the person he loves. They could be doing nothing important and it’d still be a perfect last day if he was with Keith.

It takes several vargas, but they’re ultimately triumphant. By the end of their browsing across many shops and shelters, their trip is a success. Shiro has a new betta fish and enough supplies to keep him happy for the foreseeable future. While the betta is nothing like the Altean slumberfish, he’s also the only fish Keith seemed the most interested in. Shiro likes him for his character, the one little fin that seems slightly too small for the other. Shiro can relate to feeling mismatched in his body, after all. 

They also have packets and packets of seeds and some small seedlings and plants. Shiro favored the cacti and succulents for the desert terrain they’ll be moving to on Daibazaal. Maybe he’s too optimistic about the other Terran plants he’s purchased, including some fruits and vegetables, but Shiro is determined.

He's also forwarded a list to Allura with plants he’d like to purchase the next time he’s on Altea, or the next time Allura visits Daibazaal. 

They’ve purchased other necessities, too— some Terran-style clothes for him and Keith, some Terran snacks Shiro absolutely doesn’t want to leave Earth without, and some bathing products. The bubble bath, the luxurious soaps, the decadent shampoos— those were all purchased at Keith’s insistence. Shiro suspects that Keith’s showering him in presents to make up for what he deems a lackluster birthday. 

Shiro insists that Keith is the true gift, and he means it, but he also won’t shrug off the gifts if it makes Keith happy. And Keith does seem exceptionally proud of himself, his ears perked upright, his chest swelled outward, his hand clasping Shiro’s in a tight and protective grip. Shiro can’t hear Keith’s _sulad’vok_ , but Shiro has no doubt that under-voice is beaming with pleasure at providing for his mate. 

They pack their wares onto the ship, set out to leave for Daibazaal tomorrow morning. The hangar bustles with energy as people dart back and forth, preparing the Altean ship for its launch. It’s a massive thing, far larger than anything Terran, responsible for transporting delegations of Terrans, Galrans, Alteans, and other species across the universe. Altea, serving as the peaceful neutral ground in negotiations for these peace talks, is taking its last steps to distribute the new members of the Universal Council to its appointed planets. 

Shiro and Keith duck and weave around the scurrying workers, slipping aboard the massive castleship to pack their things away in their quarters. 

“So… think you’re ready for launch?” Shiro asks gently as they walk down the winding hallways. Since coming aboard, tension tightens Keith’s shoulders. It’s a subtle movement, barely a hitching, but Shiro’s made a point to observe Keith and document his mannerisms. He’s not sure if anyone else would notice. 

He’s no expert on reading Keith and his Galra mannerisms, but he wants to be someday. Keith is subtle in many of his movements and expressive in others— it’s a matter of working through the layers to better understand him. The Galra are known for their bluntness, for being almost brutally and viciously honest, but that’s partly due to their combination language: it’s hard to lie with expressive body language and subharmonic language betraying your emotions. 

To Shiro and other Terrans, they are a mystery. But Shiro’s starting to unravel his husband enough to understand that, as far as Galra go, Keith is pretty expressive. 

Shiro knows his question hits onto something when Keith forces his shoulders to relax.

Shiro slows their pace as they reach their room. He slips inside with Keith and sets down his crate of succulents— he’ll need to ask Allura about a hydroponics room or a greenhouse on board before they leave, just so the succulents don’t wilt on the journey— before turning to Keith. 

“ _You are worried about me on Daibazaal,_ ” Shiro says. “Still.” 

Keith doesn’t immediately refute him, which is as good as any answer. His eyes flick to Shiro’s and then glance away, his ears pinning back and disappearing in his hair. 

Shiro’s thought often on Keith’s confession from his birthday— his fear that Shiro will be lonely and sad on Daibazaal, that he will grow to resent his time on that planet for all the Galra have done to him. That he will grow to resent Keith. 

The tension is back in Keith’s shoulders. Shiro reaches his hand out, grasping Keith’s wrist gently. He takes his time to lift it to his mouth, giving Keith time to protest— not that he ever has— before pressing a kiss to the tendons at his wrist. He noses absently, scenting Keith with the calm he sees in Keith when he does the same to Shiro. He tries hard to mimic how Keith does this, licking at the scenting spot. It takes a few moments, but he eventually feels the tension ease out of Keith. 

Keith steps in closer, the familiar rattling sound kicking up his throat as he presses his face into Shiro’s chest. Shiro wraps his free arm around him, rubbing his hand up his spine. 

“I trust you,” Keith says after a moment. “I trust you to tell me when you are unhappy. I will fix it.” 

“ _I promise,_ ” Shiro murmurs. His Galran still sounds clunky to his own ears, but he feels Keith shiver at the words. 

It’s never been easy for Shiro to be honest about what he wants, about what he needs, much less how he feels. But Keith is the only person he’s ever wanted to be so honest with, the only person he’s ever felt safe being vulnerable with. Shiro knows his habits— swallowing back his pain, his frustration, his unhappiness, for the sake of universal peace, or not rocking any boat, or just to make life easier for everyone— and he knows it does little good for Keith. Keith wants his honesty, and Shiro’s willing, eager even, to be honest with him. 

He presses one last kiss to Keith’s wrist before dropping his hand to wrap both arms around Keith, squeezing him tight. Keith’s purr hums into something softer. Shiro doesn’t even realize he’s tipped his head back, exposing his neck, until Keith tips up to nuzzle and kiss up the column of his throat, finding his mating mark with instinctual ease. 

It’s easy for Shiro to lose himself, to just focus on the feeling of having Keith so close.

“I know what will help you relax,” Shiro says after the silence lapses gently between them. 

Keith’s ears flick towards him, perked up curiously as he pulls away enough to look up at Shiro. His expression is inquisitive— either because he’s still translating Shiro’s words or because the words themselves invite curiosity. He makes a low, questioning trill. 

“Will you let me take care of you, Keith?” Shiro asks. While Keith continues to look at him, Shiro tries to find the right words. “ _I will… help you?_ No, I’ll—” 

Keith’s purr— Marmoran Rattle, he reminds himself, not a purr— kicks up louder as he watches Shiro work through the words. Shiro wants to be embarrassed, but he knows Keith appreciates his efforts. Shiro’s imperfect language isn’t a failure to Keith, but a sign of Shiro’s care. 

“Just trust me?” Shiro says. 

“ _As if I have any doubt in you, husband,_ ” Keith says, in that overly earnest way of his— how he always, always takes Shiro’s words and offers up devotion in turn. 

Shiro smiles helplessly and takes Keith’s hands, leading him towards the bed. Their room on the castleship is of a modest size, with a bed big enough to be comfortable, an accompanying washing room, a bank of windows to view the cosmos from. It’s a good location on the ship, too, Shiro learned on the journey from Altea to Earth— not too far from the kitchens or from the training room. Sparring with Keith on a ship isn’t like sprawling out in the sealgrass with him, but it’s better than nothing.

For now, though, Shiro’s focus is on Keith’s comfort. His husband has been upset and stressed since arriving on Earth, likely even before that, and Shiro’s determined to help— even if in some small way. He’s not sure how much of an impact he can make, but he’s always going to try for Keith. 

He waits for Keith to sit before he retreats to their supplies, digging through the fancy bathing supplies Keith purchased as belated birthday gifts. They’re all designed for Terran hair and skin rather than Galran fur, but Shiro managed to buy a specific brand of oil Keith had been eyeing in the store. 

Keith watches him, leaning back on his hands on their bed. His ears flick towards Shiro, following his sounds as he moves around their room. They stay perked and alert as Shiro returns to him, but Keith’s face is otherwise impassive. There’s the smallest hint of a smile though, so soft it’s nearly not there save for the way it lights Keith’s eyes. Shiro’s taken to thinking of that as the _Just for Shiro Smile._

“We have a little time before dinner…” Shiro says, trailing off pointedly. 

“What are your intentions?” Keith asks, the slightest tease to his tone as Shiro sits down before him. He’s removed his jacket and boots, looking more dressed down and casual. 

Shiro holds up the massage oil. “I’m going to pamper you.” 

Keith eyes him, his smile growing. “I do not need it.” 

“Indulge me?” Shiro asks, already knowing the word won’t translate for Keith. He leans in closer, bumping his forehead to Keith’s in a gesture Keith uses on him. “ _I wish to honor my mate._ ” 

It’s a phrase Keith often uses on him. It seems just as effective against Keith as it is when used against Shiro. Keith melts, his eyes closing with the gentlest fan of his pretty eyelashes against his lavender cheeks. Shiro loves being up close to Keith like this, so close he can count each little hair that lines his cheek stripes, the softest downing of his fur along his jaw. 

His mate is beautiful. Keith is the most beautiful thing in the entire universe, stars and all involved. 

“Very well,” Keith relents, like being made to relax is a great sacrifice. 

Shiro moves around their room, entering the locking code to their room, dimming the lights, and then, on a whim, hooking his PADD up and playing a quiet playlist of universal music. First up is some Olkari melody that Shiro doesn’t recognize but sounds pleasant enough. 

He returns to Keith, climbing up into bed with him. 

“All that’s missing are some candles,” he says. “And rose petals.”

Keith stares at him blankly. Shiro shakes his head to dismiss the words, ducking down to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead instead. 

When he pulls back, Keith regards him with that quiet way he tends to look at him— soft, but undoubtedly intense. Shiro still can’t quite tell the difference between the stares Keith gives him when he’s looking at him for the sake of looking or when he’s establishing the _vrínt liisva_ , the deeply intense and centering mating gaze of the Galra. 

“I can not tell if you wish for me to be naked or clothed,” Keith says, blunt as ever. Shiro nearly loses his balance as his hand slips out from beneath him. 

“ _I wish to be close_ ,” Shiro says, which isn’t actually an answer. He’s not sure how to describe what it is he’s feeling— a deep, almost instinctive need to comfort Keith, to take care of him, to satisfy him. It’s not a desire for sex necessarily, but simply a wish to care for him. 

He knows Keith must understand. It is, after all, the way he’s felt in the days leading up to Shiro’s birthday. Understanding lights Keith’s eyes as he watches Shiro. 

Shiro reaches for Keith then, the touch simple. He slides his fingers into Keith’s hair, the way he knows Keith likes. It knocks his braid loose— looser still from how it was already. Shiro did Keith’s braid this morning, and while he thinks he’s getting better at it, he’s still not nearly as tight or professional as when Keith did it for himself. 

Still, he focuses on swirling his fingers in slow circles along Keith’s scalp. Keith makes the softest trill, sinking forward, nuzzling against Shiro’s shoulder as he seeks his touch. Shiro pulls his fingers through Keith’s hair, knocking the braid loose.

He pauses only to untie the red ribbon Keith wears, taking time to curl it up the way Keith does every time he undoes his braid, treating the ribbon with reverent, unbearable care. He sets it aside once it’s coiled up, then focuses on working Keith’s hair loose.

Held so long in the braid, his hair unravels slowly around Shiro’s fingers, a silky wave reaching down Keith’s back. 

Shiro keeps his touch slow and reverent, rubbing slow circles over Keith’s scalp. Keith starts purring loudly, a rumbling sound that fills their room. He leans his full weight against Shiro, trusting him to hold him up, content to hide his face against Shiro’s shoulder. 

Occasionally he nuzzles at Shiro’s shoulder or neck, but for the most part he just holds still, content to let Shiro care for him. Shiro knows it’s Keith’s urge, always, to care for Shiro in turn, and he sees it for the level of trust it is that Keith just lets Shiro do what he needs to do. 

And Shiro’s determined. His husband has spent the last few days unreasonably stressed. Shiro’s prepared to do whatever it takes to get him to relax. 

He works his fingers through Keith’s hair until Shiro almost feels numb with the force of Keith’s purr rattling through his body. It’s a pleasant feeling, warm and buoying. Shiro slides his fingers gently over Keith’s flicking ears, the soft velvet of his fur, and smiles as they twitch at the attention. 

Keith trills quietly when Shiro’s thumbs find the spot on his ears that always makes him melt, the soft fuzzy part just in front of his ear. The little tufts of fur just beg to be smoothed down by Shiro’s thumbs, and he works in rhythmic circles until Keith is utterly melted against him. 

“Shiro,” Keith sighs. 

Shiro works his way down from his ears, skimming along his jaw. He shifts one hand back, kneading at the back of Keith’s neck. He presses his knuckles against the nape of his neck and Keith sighs out a pleased breath, ducking his head forward so his hair spills away, exposing his neck. 

“ _Comfortable?_ ” Shiro asks.

Keith only hums in response, the Marmoran rattle kicking up loudly in his chest. At Shiro’s silent coaxing, he works off the layers of his Marmoran-style clothes, the overvest and then the tunic, letting Shiro tug it up over his head. His hair goes spilling back around him like a cresting wave, dark as the night sky. 

“Beautiful Keith,” Shiro murmurs. Keith blushes plummy-red and it makes Shiro’s heart soar every time. 

Once bare-chested, Shiro has Keith lie out on the bed, flat on his stomach. Shiro shifts closer to him, unwilling to go so far as to straddle him. His focus is on Keith, and he knows such a position will only make him lose himself in the gentle press of his body against Keith’s. 

Keith settles, sliding his hands beneath one of their pillows above his head, elbows bent so his shoulders aren’t bunched up. He does glance at Shiro over his shoulder as Shiro settles into place beside him. 

Shiro coils Keith’s hair up in his hand, brushing it away to expose the pretty line of Keith’s back. He admires the varying thickness of Keith’s fur. Keith is a Galra with the shorter fur variation, but there are spots along his flank where the fur goes thicker than soft down. Shiro follows the trails of Keith’s stripes with gentle fingers, firm enough so as not to tickle him, but too gentle to be a true massage. 

Shiro picks up the bottle of massage oil. Keith had stared at it in the store long enough that Shiro had insisted on buying it. It’s not Terran-specific and seems a similar ingredient-composition to the fur-oil Keith uses to clean himself. 

“Ready?” Shiro asks as he warms the oil between his palms. 

Keith rolls his eyes. Shiro loves it when he does that— it’s such a purely Human gesture and it always makes Shiro laugh. His chuckle comes out throaty and warm and he can feel his eyes soften as he looks down at his husband, stretched out and luxuriating on their bed. 

He runs his hands over Keith’s shoulders, massaging the oil into his fur. It glides on, smoothing him out, Keith’s body pliant beneath him. Even if Keith might be ambivalent about letting Shiro fuss over him, he relaxes beneath the touch— clearly enjoying himself. It makes Shiro smile, focusing on his task. 

Shiro can understand Keith’s stress, his worry. Shiro finds it a laughable thought that he could ever come to regret choosing Keith as a mate. But it’s an anxiety he knows well. There’s the coiling, twisting fear deep in his gut that worries the same thing for Keith: that, someday, he might regret his choice in a husband. 

Even if Keith doesn’t say it, Shiro knows that he’s caused his mate a lot of stress. Not just over the last few days, but in the time they’ve known each other. Shiro also knows Keith would protest that assessment, because of course he would. Shiro still knows it’s the truth. 

Keith would never agree that Shiro is difficult to know, to love, but it’s a thought Shiro’s internalized for a long time. Breaking himself free of that is difficult. 

But better then to focus on how much he cares for Keith, on how much he appreciates him. How important he is. Just as he’s asked Keith to trust him to say when he’s unhappy, he can trust Keith to know what’s in his heart. 

He works his way down the tense muscles of his husband’s back, kneading his hands in and smoothing down, pressing firmly against the slide of Keith’s muscles. Keith’s purr grows louder and louder the more Shiro works until it fills their room, drowning out all other thought and sound. 

Shiro ducks down, pressing a kiss to the back of Keith’s neck as he kneads into his shoulders, nuzzling absently as he works his way to Keith’s mating mark. He licks at it once and then presses his mouth to it in a small kiss. Keith’s purr hitches, stopping short for half a breath in favor of Keith’s low, pleased trill. 

Keith arches his back as Shiro works his hands down along his spine, the oil leaving his fur silky and soft to the touch. 

“Beautiful Keith,” Shiro murmurs against Keith’s twitching ear before he draws away and focuses on kneading against the plane of Keith’s back. 

As he finishes, he runs one hand over Keith’s back and lower. He skims his fingers over the swell of Keith’s ass and down the back of one powerful thigh, not pausing for long to appreciate even through his husband’s trousers. Keith makes a little whining sound but doesn’t protest, even as Shiro squeezes his calf in both a tease and an apology. 

He rubs more oil between his hands and reaches for Keith’s foot. 

Keith’s feet are incredibly fluffy. Somehow, despite all the ways Shiro has worshiped Keith’s body, he’s never taken the time to notice that before. Keith’s told him of the Galra’s tendency to slip on Altean tiles and Shiro can see why— despite having the slightest padding at the worn parts of his feet, Keith’s foot is furry all over, his toes fuzzy enough to nearly cover the padding. 

Once again, Shiro has to swallow back the cat comparison. His husband has toe beans. It’s adorable. 

At the first sliding touch of Shiro’s hand on his foot, Keith grunts and twists a little to peer at him. 

Shiro smiles at him sunnily. “You’re not ticklish, are you?” 

Keith pauses. “I do not know that word.” 

Shiro hums. “ _When I touch you, do you laugh?_ That means being ‘ticklish.’” 

“Your touch is welcomed,” Keith says bluntly. “It could never be a joke to me.”

Shiro feels himself blush. He’s starting to think Keith likes to purposefully misunderstand Shiro’s explanations and offer them back as earnestly as possible. Keith betrays nothing on his face, his ears poised towards Shiro. It’s an exceptional poker face. 

“I mean, _because you can’t—_ ” He has no idea how to say ‘can’t help it’ in this context and he flounders for a moment. “ _It is not a choice to laugh._ ” 

Keith nods his head in understanding, twisting around fully so that he can flop onto his back, his feet thumping into Shiro’s lap. “I am not ‘ticklish.’”

Shiro runs his fingertips very lightly along the underside of Keith’s foot. He doesn’t even twitch. Definitely not ticklish, then. 

And so Shiro focuses on his task. He presses his thumbs against Keith’s foot, massaging absently. Keith’s fluffy hair folds down beneath his touch, made smooth by the oil. Shiro follows his instincts on where to touch and how deeply, feeling Keith tense and relax in increments as he works. He’s no expert on massage but the point is to help Keith relax, to touch every inch of his body in gratitude. 

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“You are fishing, husband,” Keith says with his eyes closed and a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. It’s a familiar phrase between them— an inside joke, as he’s told Keith. He thinks Keith likes the idea of an ‘inside joke’, a secret between just the two of them. 

Shiro chuckles, squeezing around Keith’s ankle. “ _What if I am?_ ” 

“You are good,” Keith murmurs, and it feels like another one of his weighted phrases— like there’s more behind those words than just a compliment on a massage. Shiro feels himself flush, and his ears burn when Keith opens his eyes to observe it, looking pleased with himself. 

Two can play at that game. 

“My beautiful mate,” Shiro whispers as he slides his thumb down the smoothed arch of Keith’s foot. Keith makes a soft hitching sound at the touch, back arching in pleasure. “You always work so hard, don’t you? You’re always watching me, looking out for me. You’re always taking care of me, wanting to make sure I’m happy…” 

He's speaking too quickly for Keith to fully parse every word he’s saying, but that isn’t Shiro’s focus. It’s the sentiment of it, of keeping his voice gentle— whiskey-deep and honey-soft— as he kneads into Keith’s foot.

Keith’s toes curl. 

If Shiro could purr, he would. If he had an under-voice, it’d be thick with love and affection. “My perfect husband,” Shiro says, digging his knuckles into Keith’s heel. “You work so hard and yet don’t think there’s anything amazing about you. You’re so good, Keith. You’re so good to me.” 

Keith makes a soft, inquisitive trill. His eyes are fixed on Shiro, his ears alert, and it’s clear he’s processing at least some of the words Shiro’s saying. He looks like he wants to protest a little, but even more he looks like he wants to drown himself in the words, in the reassurance that he’s a good mate, that he’s provided for Shiro. 

Shiro can’t pretend to understand the relationship between the choice of one’s _v’veivak_ and the instinctual pull of the mate, but Shiro knows now that Keith fears failing him, constantly seeks the ways he can make Shiro happy. 

And that’s the thing, really—

Shiro ducks his head, pressing a kiss to Keith’s ankle. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy in my entire life as I am in a single day with you.” 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, voice overfull.

“I love you,” Shiro says. He presses a kiss to the top of Keith’s foot. 

It’s easy, always, to be with Keith like this. He loves to tease him, loves to be competitive with him. But he loves this too, loves to just exchange words with him, to be close with him. They have the rest of their lives to learn every part of themselves and who they are together. Part of Shiro is still terrified of being worthy of Keith, but there’s some assurance in knowing that Keith feels similarly. 

They can be good for one another. 

He kisses one of Keith’s fuzzy toes. Keith makes a soft grumble of protest. “Shiro—” 

“Yes, baby?” Shiro asks innocently.

Keith pouts at him. His hand reaches out, tangling easily in the longer wisps of Shiro’s silver hair, pinning it away from his face. “My husband is…” Keith pauses, thinking through the words he could say. “Too kind.” 

Shiro shakes his head. Keith makes him kind, has always made him kind, and it’s the very least that Keith deserves. 

“ _My husband is also ridiculous,_ ” Keith says and wriggles his toes in emphasis. 

Shiro kisses another toe with a laugh. 

“… And I love you, too,” Keith says, voice soft. 

He sits up then, so quick that it nearly startles Shiro. He blinks in surprise as Keith reaches for him. 

Keith yanks him up, slamming his lips to Shiro’s. 

Shiro can only make a soft sound of surprise before he wraps his arms around Keith and tugs him in, deepening that kiss. Keith’s purr returns, loud and rattling against Shiro’s chest. Keith paws at him, holding close to him, and kissing him with all the ferocity and passion Shiro’s always admired in Keith. 

Shiro is helpless but to melt against him, sighing as he kisses him back, as Keith licks into his mouth and drags his teeth sharp across his bottom lip. 

It takes some time for Keith to still, and even once he does, he doesn’t pull away from Shiro. Shiro can feel him breathing, can feel the brush of their noses together. When Keith shifts just to press their foreheads together instead, Shiro doesn’t stray. He smiles, expression soft and open as he lets Keith surround him. 

“Hi,” Shiro says with a smile.

Keith huffs a quiet breath. “There is no logical reason to greet me.” 

“You think humans are illogical, remember? So, hi.”

“Hello, husband,” Keith grumbles, but affection colors his voice. Shiro wonders if his heart is ever going to stop soaring at the way Keith calls him by his title. He hopes he never does. 

“I bet you smell like me,” Shiro says, proud.

“I smell of oil.”

“But me, too, yes?” Shiro asks. He was the one to rub the oil across Keith’s fur and skin, after all.

Keith acquiesces with the softest rumble. “You are mine.” 

“I am,” Shiro agrees. 

He lets Keith tug on his shoulders, directing him until they sprawl together on the bed. He holds Keith in his arms, cuddling up to him. Keith’s hands drag over him, pawing absently. Shiro hardly minds. He can be a serious cuddler when the mood strikes him and he is often in the mood to cuddle when he’s with Keith. 

They fall into a comfortable silence together, Keith touching him and nuzzling against him. His purr is soothing enough to make Shiro want to sleep, even though it’s only late afternoon. He nuzzles back into Keith’s hair.

“I’ll braid it for you again,” he says in a low murmur. “Before we head for dinner.”

“As my husband wishes,” Keith says and sounds pleased.

Shiro kisses the top of his head and Keith rattles happily, nosing at his neck. He licks once over Shiro’s mating mark. 

“You know…” 

He trails off, unsure how to say it. Keith grunts, peeking up at him. “What do I know, Shiro?” 

Shiro laughs, soft and thoughtful. He waits for it to taper off into a silence before he actually says what’s on his mind. “On Earth, on Daibazaal… it doesn’t matter to me,” Shiro says. “ _If I am with you, I am home._ ” 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, looking stunned.

“You are my home,” Shiro says, staring into Keith’s eyes. 

Keith shivers but stares back, going still and intense as he gazes at him. Shiro’s never going to get tired of the mating gaze. 

He curls around Keith like that, falling into his orbit and surrounding him. He could be anywhere in the universe and it’d be perfect because he’d be there with Keith. He believes that whole-heartedly. 

He stares into Keith’s eyes and knows he feels it, too. 

Keith’s hand lifts, touching Shiro’s face. Shiro smiles, feeling his cheek plump against Keith’s palm just before he leans into that touch. 

Keith seems overwhelmed by the words, although Shiro watches as his expression shifts into something more subtle, the hint of a tease. “You will be happy if Daibazaal has no cats?” 

“You’re the only pretty kitty I need,” Shiro says and laughs. 

Keith scoffs, although he hardly looks offended— he’s the one who brought it up— and kneads at Shiro’s chest. His claws kiss against his skin even through the thin layer of his tunic. 

“I have not spoken of what creature you remind me of,” Keith says, his expression solemn. 

“Oh?” Shiro asks. He has a feeling he’s about to be teased some more. “What do I remind you of, Keith?” 

“You are of an _opik._ You fly across rooftops. _You chitter,_ ” he says and pauses to mimic the sound— it does sound like chittering, like a mix between a monkey and a squirrel. “ _You beg for food with wide eyes and expect me to be swayed._ ” 

Shiro laughs. “You’re just mad because I keep calling you a cat.” 

Keith huffs, but hums his approval when Shiro nuzzles at his shoulder and kisses up his neck. 

“Being a cat is a compliment, sweetheart,” Shiro says. “I promise.” 

Keith snorts, looping his arms around him. “Perhaps you are not _opik._ ” 

“No? What am I?” 

Keith says a word then. It takes a moment for his translator to parse the word and to translate it for him. _Incomparable._

Somehow, it makes Shiro blush. He hides his face against Keith’s neck, but there’s no fooling his mate. Keith chuckles, soft and triumphant, and his fingers kiss across Shiro’s scalp as he scritches through his hair. 

“ _Incomparable. My mate is a world all his own._ ” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he shifts, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s ear and whispering, “You are my home, too.” 

Shiro’s breath comes out in the softest hiccup. He swallows back the swell of emotion that threatens to punch out of him, settling instead to lift his head and press his forehead to Keith’s. Keith’s rattle kicks up again, soft and pleased with himself. He doesn’t look smug, necessarily, but Shiro feels that, yet again, Keith’s managed to win a competition. 

“ _You are incomparable to me, too,_ ” Shiro says.

“Liar. You call me a cat.” 

“I say you’re like a cat, not that you’re literally a cat,” Shiro says, protesting, and laughs as Keith rolls his eyes. “Although I’m curious to see if humans really are similar to opik, or if you’re just teasing me.” 

“You will see,” Keith says. 

“Just another thing to look forward to on Daibazaal.”

Keith’s eyes find his, something quiet within them. Shiro closes his eyes and leans closer, nudging his nose against Keith’s. 

“I am looking forward to it,” he says. 

“I believe you,” Keith murmurs, and there’s weight to those words. 

Keith trusts him. And Shiro can trust him in turn. 

Keith draws away, sitting up straight and flicking his massive wave of hair back behind him. “Now braid my hair, husband. I am hungry.” 

“With pleasure, Keith,” Shiro says, sitting up and reaching for him. 

The horizon stretches out before them, their journey to their new home dawning before them. But Shiro’s in a castleship room with his husband, surrounded by his new pet fish and an abundance of blooming cacti. He has Keith in his arms, his mark on his neck. There might be many things he doubts or worries about, but this is something he’ll never turn from. 

He is home already. That’s all he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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